


dear jenny

by nowrunalong



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara participates in a school assignment in which her students write letters to British soldiers stationed in Afghanistan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dear jenny

“Veteran’s Day is coming up,” Clara announces to the class, “so I’ve got an activity for us to do. Our last activity of the year. We like activities, right?”

The class of eleven-year olds shrugs noncommittally. 

“Well, you’ll like this one. We’re writing letters! And if we’re lucky, we’re going to get some back.” She steps around her desk, heels clacking against the tiled floor, and hands a stack of papers to Courtney in the front row. “Take one and pass 'em on.”

Sitting back on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed, Clara leans forward and lowers her voice conspiratorially.

“Now, the school has arranged this and it’s all very exciting. You’re each going to write to a different British soldier stationed in Afghanistan. It’s a school project, but it’s also a project I think you should like because it’s a good thing to do. Soldiers spend a lot of time being tired, or muddy, or scared, or sometimes all three at once. You can help to cheer them up.”

“Miss Oswald?”

Clara straightens up and looks to the back of the class. Tony’s waving a piece of paper above his head.

“There’s an extra page.”

With a small sigh, Clara smiles. That’d be Susan’s, she thinks. A couple weeks ago, her grandfather had called in that they were moving and that Susan would be transferring to a new school. Didn’t even say where they were going. Well, Clara supposes, that isn't her job to think about. She gets Tony to pass the paper up to the front.

_Captain Jenny Tyler-Smith_ , reads the name at the top of the sheet. Next to it is a tiny black-and-white photo of a pretty blonde woman in a soldier’s uniform, hair tied back in a ponytail.

“Right,” Clara says brightly. “It looks like I get to write a letter, too!”

—

They spend the duration of English working on their letters, although many students take their time to draw rather than write—they’d been excited when Clara had told them that they could also include art. 

Clara makes her way up and down the rows, taking a look at what everyone’s up to and offering help to students who aren’t sure what to write or draw.

“No guns,” she tells them, eyebrow raised. “No guns, no bombs, no dead people. Got it?”

At the back, Tony frowns and crumples up his paper.

“You can use the picture on your page to draw your soldier, if you like. You can draw our school. You can draw the flag. You can even draw your dog. They want to see happy things.”

“Can I draw a dinosaur?” Tony asks.

“What’s your soldier’s name?”

“Um.” Tony checks his paper. "Danny Pink.”

“Tony, I’m sure that Danny Pink would be absolutely delighted to receive a drawing of a dinosaur in his letter.”

—

On Friday, Clara collects all the first-draft versions of the letters. Her first plan for the weekend is to make sure they’re all appropriate for sending. Her second plan is to write her own.

She settles down into the couch and opens her laptop.

_Dear soldier_ , she starts. _Thank you for your service to our country._

Clara makes a face at the screen. Too formal? She has the woman’s name after all. So what if all the sample letters start with ‘Dear soldier’? She backspaces and starts again.

_Dear Captain Tyler-Smith,_

_I’m a teacher at Coal Hill Secondary School in London. I’m the only teacher writing letters for our project this year—I guess you pulled the short straw! The kids got quite into drawing pictures, but I’m not much of an artist, so there are no dragons or three-headed dogs in this envelope. Still, I’d like to send my thanks to you in words._

_Thank you. Thank you for your bravery, and for your dedication to our country and to our freedom. Your service is of such great importance, and you are so very, very appreciated. I hope that your mission will be over quickly so that you may return home to those you love. Despite your distance, you are always in our hearts._

_Sincerely,_

_Clara Oswald_

Clara thinks for a second and then adds her email address in a postscript.

_Just in case you’d like to keep in touch._

— 

On Monday, they mail the revised letters. Clara’s students are enthused; she’s so proud of them. They talk amongst themselves, sharing what they wrote and drew and wondering whether or not they’d get a letter back.

—

They do, several weeks later.

It’s mid-July, and Clara thanks the gods she’s not sure she believes in for timing this so perfectly. Had it been a week later, school would have been out for summer and the students wouldn’t be receiving their letters til September.

Clara opens the big envelope from the administrators and the pile of letters tumbles out onto her desk. The kids rush to the front of the class, gathering around her and trying to spot their names.

“Hey, hey! Form a queue! Don’t want to rip one of these by mistake. Especially one that’s not yours.”

A few minutes later, all the kids are back at their desks with letters in hand, tearing into them excitedly, and Clara’s left with the last letter.

_Clara Oswald_  
_Coal Hill Secondary School_

She’ll open it later.

—

Clara loves getting letters. Letters, postcards, even personal emails—they make her heart skip a beat when they’re addressed to her. 

But letters are her absolute favourite.

Everything about a letter reflects a choice, an effort made: the envelope; the stamps; the paper, the way that it's folded; the ink, the way that it’s put to paper. Especially that last one. Clara doubts that the Captain had had many options for stamps at her base in Afghanistan.

She grabs her letter opener from her desk drawer, slides the blade across the top the envelope, and pulls the letter out.

_Dear Clara_ , she reads. 

_I can call you Clara, can’t I? I don’t know if you’re a Miss or a Mrs or something else entirely, and I don’t want to presume—what if I got it wrong? You’d think badly of me!_

_You can call me Jenny, by the way!_

_Thank you so much for your letter! It was sweet and made me smile a lot. I don’t have a family anymore and all my friends are in my unit, so this was the first letter anyone has ever sent me! It’s very exciting._

_Communicating by letter is really quite slow, though, so I think that next time I will email you instead. I would love to keep in touch—it would be like having another friend!_

_Thank you again for your beautiful letter._

_Yours truly,_

_Jenny_

Clara’s face splits into a grin as she reads, and it’s so wide it almost hurts. The tone of the writing, the bubble letters: Jenny is completely charming, and Clara is thrilled at the thought that she might have made the woman’s day.

Jenny has certainly made hers.

—

Clara pins the letter to her fridge along with the little black and white picture of Jenny. It's ridiculous, but every time she looks at it, she feels a surge of affection for the soldier. In her mind, she's already writing her next letter.


End file.
